


A Hero's Worth

by magelette



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Angel Book of Days Challenge, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-05-17
Updated: 2004-05-17
Packaged: 2017-10-31 19:52:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/347763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magelette/pseuds/magelette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes it takes a letter from home to remember how much you mean to people. Set in season two, between "Dead End" and "Belonging."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Hero's Worth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kath](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=kath).



Spring in Los Angeles smelled just like any other time of year. At their old offices, at their new offices, even back in the Hyperion, it all had the same smell. City smell. People smell. The dirt of years hanging over everything. After it rained, it smelled clean and wet and new, almost like spring in Devon. But here in the city, the air turned stale and foul. Every once in a while though, he'd catch a scent of honeysuckle or jasmine. The garden at the heart of the Hyperion was barren, but there were still tiny hints of spring, if you knew where to look.

It felt odd to be back in the Hyperion. Angel's 'epiphany' had brought them all home, even though he and Gunn and Cordy had unanimously agreed to keep the lease on the other office open--just in case. He made a mail run over there once a day, since the other office was more or less on his way home. Cordy had offered to do today's pickup, probably because it was the day for Arrowhead delivery, and for some reason Cordy thought the man had the tightest arse this side of Orange County.

"Letter for you." Cordy dropped the rest of the mail on Angel's new desk with an almost gleeful look in her eye. She and Angel were tight again, as Gunn put it, but that didn't mean that the vampire was entirely forgiven. That would take more than a new wardrobe. Gunn mentioned something about a new shoe expense account, but he just pretended not to hear. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him, unless it had six legs and spat venomous phlegm at its victims.

Cordy waved the envelope under his nose. "Earth to Wesley. You here, Wes? Remember? Blue planet that revolves around the sun? Third one in or something?" She studied the postmark. "Why're you getting letters from Devon? God, he's such a little band whore…"

Devon? The writing on the envelope wasn't his mother's tidy script, but a childish scrawl that could only belong to one person. "It's not from that young man with the hair, Cordy. It's from my nephew, Jamie. He lives in Devon with my parents and his mother. Ancestral seat of the Wyndam-Pryces and all that rot." Strange that Jamie would write to him now. Usually the nine year old only sent his required thank you letter at Christmas and his birthday. And if anything were seriously wrong, surely Marian or Mum would've called…

20 April 2001

Dear Uncle Wesley,

Thank you for the Harry Potter Legos. Mum said I forgot to thank you for them for Easter, so I'm doing it now. Thank you. They're really brilliant. The Hogwarts train even has a little compartment that you can stash dementors in, just like in the book. Book three is my favorite, cause of Professor Lupin. He's a werewolf. Did you ever know any werewolves? Grandda said that Dad never ran into any, but you were on the Hellmouth, so maybe you did cause there's more monsters there. Did you? I hope you didn't get bitten, because I don't know any professors who can brew Wolfsbane potion for you.

Teacher gave us homework for summer term. Grandda said that it's for our own good, because when we're Watchers, we won't get summer vacations. Mum said that's bollocks, and then Grandda gave her that Look. So we have to write an essay about who our hero is. It can be someone from history or someone in our family, but we can't write about anyone from books because Teacher doesn't want a whole lot of essays about Harry Potter. But Harry did defeat Voldemort, so I don't see why he's not a hero.

Grandda said I should write about someone in our family, since we've been Watchers since before the Flood. What flood, Uncle Wesley? The pond flooded two years ago, but I know you and Dad were Watchers lots before then. Then Grandda and Mum argued over who I should do, cause Grandda thinks I should do Dad, since Dad died trying to protect his Slayer. And Mum said that was a whole bunch of bollocks, and then Grandmum said that she shouldn't use that kind of language in front of the b-o-y. I think Grandmum thinks I can't spell. I'll be done with primary in two years. It's not like I'm a baby.

But I don't want to do Dad, because that lady from the Watcher's Academy already did her thesis on him, cause her friend was writing about some vampire named William the Bloody. And I'd rather do you anyway, since you're still alive, and I can ask you questions without trying that spell that Mum said I can't try until I'm at least sixteen and you or someone else is there to watch me. So can I? Write about you? It only has to be a few pages, and I have until September. Mum even said I can call you one night since you're back at that hotel place. We tried to call a couple weeks ago, but not even the vampire answered the phone. Do vampires not like phones? Jacob's little sister's scared of them, cause they're so loud.

So write back, Uncle Wesley. Then I'll call you and ask you questions. But not too many. And Mum said there's things I can't ask that Grandda told me to, like when you're going to give me a cousin and if you're one of those poufy people. You don't look poufy to me.

Love your nephew,  
Jamie Fraser Wyndam-Pryce

P.S. What's a rogue demon? Grandda won't tell me, and Mum said to ask you.

"So?" Cordy gave him that expectant look that he loved so much, the one that said he'd better spill or else she would have him before the Host to spill his guts. Just because they got rather arse-faced that one night, she thought she was entitled to knowing every detail of his life. Which made him feel loved, in an oddly pleasant way. As if someone cared what happened to him.

"Jamie has a project. He has to write about a hero. And he chose me." He tossed the letter on his desk, folding his hands. It surprised him that Marian would even suggest that Jamie choose him, unless this was another subtle jab at his father. Marian still blamed the Watcher's Council for her husband's death, even though it had been almost ten years.

"What's wrong with choosing you? You survived a year in Sunnydale. That's more than most people can say." Cordy sat on the edge of his desk, picking up Jamie's letter. "And you look damn good in leather pants." She shot her amazing smile at him, something that never failed to warm his heart and other parts of his body. The chemistry might have died between them shortly after that first kiss, but Cordelia Chase would always mean the world to him. Even if it meant that she read his mail and forced ice cream down his throat after horrid break-ups. At least she didn't try to paint his toe nails…

"According to my father, a hero is a man who follows the rules of the Council. My brother died because he didn't keep to the strict letter of the law. His slayer was in danger and he tried to intervene. He died because of it." The girl had only been a potential, and everyone thought that the vampire was well under control. That was the last time the Council used actual demons on a non-active slayer.

Cordy's brown eyes saw more than they should, as usual. Perhaps it was growing up on a hellmouth that made her more astute than most twenty year olds. Or it was just part of the Cordelia Chase package. "So you became Mr. Rules guy and still pissed your dad off because the Council assholes tossed you out. Like it was your fault that one slayer was already in love with her old Watcher, and the other was a complete headcase."

He smiled slightly. "Actually, yes."

She waved the letter. "Does Junior actually know you work for a vamp now? Granted, Bat Vamp with a soul, but still? And why the hell does your sister-in-law still live with the pricks if she doesn't like your dad? Cuz it sounds like there's a whole hellmouth of tension in Wyndam-Pryce land."

Wesley snatched the letter back. "My father has made it clear to both Marian and Jamie that there is one solitary black sheep in the Wyndam-Pryce family, and he currently resides in Los Angeles. And as much as we all might enjoy it, Marian should not use Jamie as a ploy to try and hurt my father. That man mastered the talent far too long ago." He looked up at her again. "You really think that I looked sexy in the leather pants? Because they chafed as if…"

"Wes." Cordy took his chin in her hand, running her fingers through his hair. "It's time for a hair cut. You're starting to look a little shaggy. But anyway. You fight the evil guys even though you don't have to anymore. What's not heroic about that?"

"I haven't died yet. I haven't led the repressed against their evil demonic overlords. I haven't gone into another dimension to rescue the princess. I can't even defeat Super Mario Brothers." He looked at the framed picture on the wall of Angel, Cordy and Doyle. "He managed to die properly. I'm just his second-rate replacement who shows up wearing leather pants."

Cordy's arm fell around his shoulders, something he tried not to shrug off. "I apologize, Cordelia. That little rant crossed the coworker line. You shan't hear anything about this again."

"Wes." The arm around him tightened until he got a really nice view of two of Cordelia's best aspects. "Wesley." A hand forced his chin up again, so that he focused on her face. "No staring at the boobs. You can do that later."

He grinned at her, relieved when she grinned back. The girl he'd known in Sunnydale seemed to be miles away now. The woman that Cordelia Chase was becoming truly was an incredible one.

"Don't worry about the bitching, Wes. We all get depressed by our crappy little lives." Cordy made a face. "Or what passes for crappy little lives. Just as long as you don't do it all the time. It's not like we need another Tall, Dark and Broody in the office."

This time, Wesley's smile felt more real. Cordelia had always believed in him. So had Gunn for that matter. And if his father couldn't take the stick out of his arse long enough to realize that he was setting up to lose his grandson the way he lost his eldest son, then maybe it was his job to set his father straight.

"Hallo, Mari?" One of the nice things now was having his own office. Not that he didn't mind sharing space before with Cordelia and Gunn, listening to Cordy babble on and on about this latest fashion trend or that gossip to Willow. At least the lines of communication were open again between Sunnydale and Los Angeles. At this rate, Buffy might even forgive him someday. It wasn't as if he slept with Darla…

"Wes! Jamie's been practically bouncing off the walls since we mailed your letter. I trust that it arrived?" His sister-in-law's voice seemed surprisingly cheerful for such a late hour. Even after being in the States for so long, he still forgot exactly what the time difference was. There were other things to worry about when you had to save the world so often.

"It arrived yesterday. Are you quite sure that you want Jamie interviewing me for his project? I'm not particularly popular with the Watchers these days, even the retired ones who teach the juniors." He fidgeted with the letter opener on his desk, a rare 17th century Italian stiletto that Virginia found for him at an estate sale. He stabbed it into the top of his desk a few times. Yes, the point was still nice and sharp.

"Your father and his Watcher goits can--"

"Marian," he interrupted. When she got into a tirade, she was almost as thorough as Cordelia. "I'm not quite sure this is the best way to alienate my father any further. I know that you don't agree with him about Henry's death, but pissing him off, to put it as Cordelia would, is definitely of the bad."

There was a sigh. He could almost picture Marian standing in her room at home, twirling the phone cord around her fingers. Jamie would be asleep by now, but Marian's job a nurse made her used to odd hours. "Roger's threatening to send Jamie away, Wes. I've let him enroll my son in his precious Watcher's preparatory primary, but your father thinks Jamie might be best off at public school."

"Granted that the Council is full of wankers who don't know their arse from a hole in the ground, especially when it comes to dealing with supposedly evil creatures…" Wesley drove the knife a little deeper into the desk. "You could just move somewhere else, Mari. I'm sure Mum would support you. As long as neither of you tell Father. Don't you still get Henry's pension?"

He knew that Marian had intended to move out of the manor house after Henry died, but it had taken years to straighten the knots out of his brother's pension. Especially since no one could quite agree on how different it would have been if Henry followed procedure and allowed his Slayer potential to take care of the vampire on her own. But Roger Wyndam-Pryce was an expert at emotional blackmail, and it didn't surprise Wesley at all when Marian was convinced to stay where she was and let his parents help her raise Jamie. His nephew was a well-adapted boy who would do rather well once he entered secondary school. For now, Jamie was a normal nine year old boy who would rather be a sorcerer than a Watcher. It was too bad that Willow was in Sunnydale. Apparently she was becoming quite the Wiccan. Though there was that coven in Devon…

"Jamie idolizes you, Wesley. Can't you see that? He always asks when you'll be home again, and what you're doing now, and if he can be a detective just like you when he grows up. He already lost one father. Don't let him lose another." He could hear the heaviness of Marian's silence, even across the Transatlantic phone cable. "Please, Wesley."

"If Jamie receives a poor mark, you will take responsibility with my father," Wes warned. "I won't have him calling me at all hours so that he might blame me for his grandson's downfall. It's enough that he tells my nephew I might be gay because I haven't produced offspring for him yet."

"So things didn't work with Virginia? One of your photos actually made it over here to the Star." Marian chuckled. "You looked quite handsome in that suit of yours. Jamie said you reminded him of 007. Brosnin though, not Connery."

"And Connery had all the cool moves too." Wesley settled his letter opener back in its sheathe on his desk. "Jamie has all of summer to finish this, right? It's been quite busy here, with Angel returning to the fold. Did I tell you that they made me the boss?"

He stared at the piece of paper, not sure where to begin. "27 April, 2001" wasn't exactly an award-winning start. Jamie did ask about the werewolf. And even Luke Skywalker was a bit of a bumbling idiot when he first started his hero's journey…

Dear Jamie,

Yes, I did know a werewolf at one point. He was the boyfriend of one of the group in Sunnydale, a friend of the current Slayer. Much like your Professor Lupin, Oz fought on the side of the light. From what my coworker has heard, Oz is currently seeking a cure for his ailment with different sorcerers in Europe. So if a thin red-haired man stops by to say hello, don't be too frightened. He won't hurt you. Unless it's the full moon. Then you'll have to ask your Mum to get the manacles out of my old bedroom to lock him up. Not that your Mum should know where they are…

I'm glad that you're enjoying the Legos. Gunn thought that a Playstation would be even better, but I talked him out of it when I pointed out what you can do with the tracks for the Hogwarts Express. Is there really a compartment to hide the dementors? You will have to show me the next time I visit.

I would be honored to answer your questions. There might be some that I am not able to disclose, do to the confidential nature of our work here in Los Angeles, but I will try my best. You could even speak with the other members of my team if you wish, since they are the real heroes. There was one in particular, a man not unlike your Dad, who gave his life to save the ones he loved. I never knew him, but I wish I had. Just like I wish you could've known your father.

The Flood that Grandda was talking about was the Biblical flood, the one that the Watchers are trying to blame on a race of demons called the G'thanki. The G'thanki wished to flood this plane so that they could inhabit more of the earth, especially since they can't thrive as well in salt water as they can in fresh water. And as for a rogue demon, that's something you'll have to ask me in person.

Study hard, and don't listen to your grandda too much. Heroes are always in the eye of the beholder, and it's not as if they have to take A levels in order to reach that status.

All my love,  
Uncle Wes

Maybe he would get his chance to lead an army someday or rescue a fair maiden in distress. Maybe he might avert some great apocalypse by solving some obscure prophecy at the last moment. Or maybe he might be the head of Wolfram and Hart's research division someday. His own father might think he was a prat, but as long as one little boy believed that Wesley was a hero, there was a chance that he might actually live up to his reputation. Spring was a time for rebirth anyway, and if Angel could manage to reinvent himself, it shouldn't be so hard for a Wyndam-Pryce.


End file.
